


Overheated

by Honeythief



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dubious Consent, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, First Time, Incest, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2102982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeythief/pseuds/Honeythief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam comes to the conclusion that he's lived through every possible Tuesday, he decides he might as well spice things up a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overheated

**Author's Note:**

> *sigh*  
> I was supposed to write Destiel. No idea when I started preferring Wincest instead. Anyways, do enjoy <3.  
> Apologies for any mistakes/inconsistencies.

The same, invariably maddening tune blurted out of the radio speakers for the 99th morning in a row. Sam knew he was supposed to wake up and face yet another Tuesday, but he kept his eyelids insistently shut, still recovering from his brother's latest, rather graphic death. In fact, he'd rather not get up at all.

_It was the heeeeaaaat of the moment!_

Dean turned up the volume unbearably high, leaving Sam no choice but to force his body into a sitting position. The younger Winchester was now boring his eyes into the cheap, motel radio.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

'Sammy' vaguely registered hearing the other hunter's voice as he unplugged the insolent device with a forceful pull and hurled it across the room, unexpected fury burning through his veins. The radio hit the nearest wall with a dull, satisfying thud and crashed miserably onto the floor. Dean, startled by the sudden outburst, slowly turned his head away from the radio's leftovers back to his brother, eyebrows raised high in question.

"What the hell, Sam? Is that any way to start a day? Come on!"

"That... _song_ is no way to start a day," Sam grumbled in reply and untangled his limbs from the sheets. 

"Dude, _Asia!_ What's gotten into you? Why all the hate?" Dean finished tying his shoes and dropped his feet to the floor, still scanning his little brother from head to toe in search of any signs of further aggression. Sam just sat there, returning Dean's worried stare, too tired to provide any kind of explanation. Why bother, when everything he's done for the past 98 Tuesdays turned out to be utterly pointless? The always calm and collected Samuel Winchester has finally arrived at a point where research failed and all he could actually do was get angry. Dean wasn't able to help him this time around; neither was Bobby, Ellen, or anyone else for that matter. The answer wasn't written anywhere in dad's journal, nor was it implied in any lore, waiting to be magically discovered. The young hunter wasn't known to give up easy, but for the first time in a long time he felt downright _helpless_.

"Sam?" His train of thoughts was cut off by a sharp voice. "Ground control to major Tom! You with me?" Dean was snapping his fingers in front of Sam's face. He caught his hand and huffed, annoyed:

"I'm fine, drop it."

They stayed like that for a while, clashing in a non-verbal dispute. The younger of brothers watched the elder with scrutiny, suddenly mesmerized by his perfect features. He studied the constellations of freckles dusting his high cheekbones, admired those unbelievably green irises and curled eyelashes, his tightened jaw with delicate stubble and plump, lush lips. His brother's immensely good looks weren't by any means a recent discovery, but at this particular moment he started to appreciate it in the possibly most inappropriate of ways. When Dean swallowed nervously, shrinking under the other's intensive gaze, a certain crazy idea crept into Sam's head. Sick, disturbing, and _massively_ crazy. " _Like 'Dingo-ate-my-baby' crazy,_ " Sam thought humorlessly.

"Fine, you win the glaring contest, chuckles. I'm dropping it, geez," Dean jerked his arm in attempt to free himself from the hunter's iron grip, but the latter only squeezed it tighter. "All right, now you're just freaking me out! What-"

Sam pulled his hand, making him lose balance and tumble forward into his lap. Dean let out a shocked gasp as he was gripped by the collar of his shirt, lips slamming against lips. He started thrashing and pushing at his brother's firm chest, clenching his teeth to keep Sam's tongue out of his mouth. As the struggle proved very unproductive, Dean became painfully aware of the advantage Sam had over him - in both strength and size. He evidently was no longer the kid Dean continued to treat him as.

His protests came muffled and desperate, unintentionally allowing Sam to finally slip him his tongue. The one-sided kiss was hot and unyielding, one tongue trying to coax another into play. A thousand jumbled thoughts and emotions pierced the blonde, both panicked and conflicted. It was all kinds of _wrong_ for Dean to notice that Sam knew exactly how to make him want to kiss back, to weaken and abandon his struggles. Dean sunk his nails into Sam's shoulders, tightening them as hard as he could, all while losing himself in the feeling of his own brother sucking and licking into his mouth. But when he felt a warm hand slip underneath his shirt and run over his chest and back, Dean finally snapped out of the spell and bit the other's tongue, drawing and tasting blood. Sam didn't pull away, but hissed irritably and flipped them around in one motion. Dean's body collided with the mattress and before he could even blink, he found himself trapped and immobilized - thighs straddled, wrists pinned above his head to assure submission. His cheeks flushed in humiliation upon realizing that Sam was holding him down with a single arm.

"What THE FUCK are you doing?!" he blurted, trying to achieve what he couldn't by force, highly disturbed by their new position. "This- this is- I can't even!... We're-... _brothers_ , for fuck's sake, plus you're not even into dudes, so what-"

Dean's frantic speech was cut off when a finger pressed against his lips, the gesture so oddly gentle that his voice momentarily froze in his throat. His eyes wandered all over Sam's face, waiting anxiously for some kind of move. Sam, on the other hand, was fighting an inner battle of 'what now'. When the genius idea popped in his mind, he forgot to consider that Dean might actually resist. " _Of fucking course he resists,_ " Sam berated himself, not really on board with forcing himself on his brother, time loop or not. While Dean might indeed be unaware of what was happening, he wasn't an inflatable doll but a breathing, assertive person, who apparently happened to lack the same curiosity towards trying incestuous sex.

"Shh, Dean. Just-... just trust me, okay? You won't remember a thing, I promise." He leaned in and started littering the older hunter's neck with reassuring kisses, inhaling his fresh scent.

"Are you for real, Sammy? I think I'd remember being raped by my little brother!" Dean bit back viciously, never ceasing his efforts to escape Sam's hold. The latter stopped dead in his tracks, lifting his head to peer into those wide, green eyes. Dean looked at him as if he's escaped from a mental institution, completely off his rocker and unable to make coherent choices.

That was the last straw. Sam's pent-up frustration, kept in check for the last 98 Tuesdays, ultimately crossed its limit.

"Shut up or I'll gag you, princess."

There was an unfamiliar, predatory glint in his eyes that Dean didn't dare challenge.

"Crazy, my brother's gone crazy," he mumbled the words underneath his breath like a mantra as Sam lifted his black T-shirt and started sucking and pinching his nipples. Dean sighed contentedly, chewing on his lower lip almost hard enough to break it, determined not to respond in a desirable manner. Sam chuckled smugly, traveling lower, worshipping the smooth skin with licks, nibs and kisses. Dean inwardly cursed himself, honestly striving (and failing) to feel nothing but disgust. Sam's mouth was now firmly attached to Dean's abdomen, forming an impressive hickey just above the outline of his pubic hair.

"Wanna know what, Dean?" he asked, running his tongue across the blonde's hipbone. "I think you get all tingly when I take control like that."

He wasted no time divesting his brother of clothing, tracing the hem of his underwear before shoving it down with his jeans, boots and socks. The last one to go was Dean's shirt, the collar catching on his full lips and ruffling his hair, leaving the hunter _very_ aware of his stark nudity. " _Shit shit shit this is really happening,_ " a distraught voice in Dean's head kept informing him of the urgency of his predicament, nagging him to resist. As soon as Sam let go of his wrists in order to nudge apart his legs, he sent a half-hearted kick his way.

"Sammy, just stop and think for a while," he pleaded, pondering briefly how far this game would go. Briefly, because he knew _exactly_ how far and how wrong, but refused to acknowledge where this was headed. 'Sammy' caught him by the ankle easily enough and was now trailing kisses up his calf, ending on his bent knee.

"That didn't sound very convincing. You've stopped squirming, too. Are you even still trying, Dean?" He slapped his thigh loudly. "Now open up."

"How about go screw yourself, bitch," the hunter managed to retort. Sam smacked his lips disapprovingly and lifted Dean's joined legs, bending them as far as they'd go.

"Wrong answer, jerk," came a heated whisper in his ear, triggering a wave of goosebumps.

For the record, Dean did feel obliged to struggle some more, but somehow his inner motivation kept eluding him stubbornly. He lay there, exposed and defeated, secretly relishing in the thrilling feel of Sam's calloused hands caressing the back of his thighs, then kneading and spreading his cheeks. The touch was somewhat soft, creating an illusion of free will, and yet Dean felt entirely incapacitated. Sam was vigilant, ready to react accordingly lest Dean should try anything.

In the meantime, no longer capable of disregarding his straining erection, Sam shrugged off his shirt, fumbled with his shorts and took out his throbbing cock with a relieved groan. Rightfully assuming that Dean was in no way ready (neither physically nor mentally) to consensually roll over and take it up the ass, he pressed him harder into the bed as a precaution, wishing he had something to tie him with. Panting with anticipation, he rubbed his hardness along Dean's crack, getting his virgin hole slippery with pre-come. Sam wasn't exactly your poster boy for 'slow and sweet love-making', so the sole courtesy he offered Dean before penetration was shoving three messily wetted fingers inside, all at once, actions hastened by his pending need to _get off_. His brother was no delicate flower - he took countless beatings, dislocated shoulders, gunshots and broken bones on a daily basis, therefore there was no reason to think he couldn't take a cock without sufficient prep and still maybe enjoy it.

Dean scrambled up defensively towards the edge of the bed, authentically freaked out. He did the math - there was no way Sam was going to fit in without tearing him up, that much he could estimate. They wrestled for a longer while - a bruise here, a scratch there, bites, punches and hair-pulling included. Dean's creative profanities and threats all fell on deaf ears. By some miracle and not without effort, Sam managed to catch and tear Dean's knees apart. He stilled the hunter's hips and fucked right in with a savage grunt. Whether it was Dean's agonized cry or his own burning discomfort, Sam shuddered and stopped moving altogether, cursing his own inexperience. Dean's channel was squeezing him painfully tight, muscles twitching and unable to relax. " _No pain, no gain, it seems._ " As soon as he formed the thought, another sharp slap landed on his flushed face.

"Ah, fuck... I take it you skipped your gay sex-ed classes," Dean wheezed in resignation, trying to keep it cool even while his backside kept exploding with waves of aching pain, impossible to neglect. Sam's monster dick filled him up too much, too deep, stuffed him too full. It was beyond belief that some men actually _enjoyed_ receiving anal. On the bright side, he was still in one piece, courtesy of Sam's meager prep. The hunter squeezed his eyes shut and held onto the motel sheets for dear life, imagining himself anywhere but here. He wasn't a goddamned weakling, he knew he could've fought so much harder than that. Why hadn't he?

The younger Winchester tried moving his hips in circles before rocking back and forth as carefully as he could, still roused and ebullient after their scuffle, still high on lust _screaming_ at him to fuck Dean bloody. Luckily, this part of intercourse didn't differ much from what Sam was used to, and he knew perfectly well how to please a woman. Why should pleasing a man be any harder? His hand traveled soothingly across his brother's waist and stomach, distracting him from the burning stretch before moving to comb his fingers through the mess of his dirty blond hair, the touch nearly serene as he dared thrust harder, steadily losing his restraint. They might have started off on the wrong foot, but soon enough Sam's movements became considerably smoother and bolder. Instead of petting Dean's hair like before, he pulled at it forcibly and slammed his head back, baring the throat. He snarled and mouthed at it, feeling the vibrations from Dean's whimpers, hips jerking irregularly.

"C'mon, Dean... work with me here," he panted, fucking his brother with deep and hard thrusts, changing the angle every now and again. "It's starting to feel good, isn't it?" All he got in reply was a quiet 'fuck you', and he laughed, never stopping to push, slowly yet strong enough to get the springs creaking in protest. "I wonder how you die this time. Drilled to death maybe? I mean, pun intended."

The bizarre comment finally compelled Dean to look at his brother, brows quirked in confusion. Before he could figure out what that could possibly mean, Sam gave a particularly rough thrust, skin meeting skin with a bruising slap. Dean cried out as pleasure unexpectedly chased away the pain. Sam was buried all the way in, rutting against his prostate. When his back arched in ecstasy, Dean realized in horror that he was losing control over his body, that he was - lord have mercy - starting to crave more.

"You like it," came the accusation. No matter how badly Dean wanted to shy away, there was no escaping Sam's roaming hands, no running away from the pleasure his touches gave him, from how arousing it was to have Sam purr and lick into his ear and how the feeling of his hot flesh inside had him tremble and buck his hips. 

"N-no."

"Liar. You like it, right _here,_ " the tip of his swollen cock pressed urgently against Dean's sweet spot, rubbing it teasingly.

"I don't!" Dean rasped, his red face still buried in the meat of his own shoulder, as far away from his brother as possible. Sam's lips continued to drag over Dean's earlobe - an area he knew that was especially sensitive way before he even got the chance to explore his body that way.

"Sure you do." He pulled halfway out and went back in, relishing in the sweet little yelp Dean failed to withhold. He cupped Dean's chin with one hand and forced the hunter to face him. "Look at me."

To Sam's surprise, Dean did. His gorgeous eyes were watery and unsure, pupils blown with lust. Uneven breaths left his trembling lips, mingling with his own. Sam traced his mouth with a thumb, slowly and lovingly, then bumped their foreheads together.

All Sam wanted was a way to channel his frustration, something to get him back on his feet. Dean just happened to stand nearby and look fuckable, with his convenient case of Tuesday amnesia. That's all Sam wanted and he had no idea how it turned into this sick, twisted game, too intimate for anyone's liking.

Ignoring the odd feeling in his chest, Sam resumed his movements, sighing when the blissful friction returned. Dean's body shook with every thrust, pleasure spilling across his face. The fact that he never broke eye contact fueled Sam's desire even further. He pumped his hips furiously, deciding it was about time to screw Dean's brains out. Coincidentally, Dean decided it was about time to let go.

"Ngghh, yeah..." He sought leverage on Sam's broad shoulders, wrapping his bowed legs around his waist and squeezing their bodies together. "It's good now, so good..." Dean's hands glided across taunt muscles, feeling them work beneath Sam's tanned skin as he used them to shove greedily into his willing body. He tugged at the long, sweaty strands and smashed their lips together, the second kiss heated and passionate to compensate for the first one. Sam responded eagerly, indulging in the gratification of having fucked away all of Dean's resistance and denial. His mind was clouded with the delight of feeling the hunter reciprocate his touches, feeling him meet his thrusts and let Sam have him however he wanted. The experience exceeded the few expectations he had allowed himself to form and have.

It became crystal clear that it wasn't about curiosity or frustration after all. It was about making sure Dean was still here with him, still his brother, warm and very much alive, especially after watching him die so many times, especially with his impending trip to hell. It was about learning him by heart, feeling him inside out, committing to memory every inch of his body while he had the one and only chance, desperately storing away each moan and caress. That's all that mattered at the moment, and Sam refused to let any other thoughts in, namely those layered with apprehension and fear of what happens when Dean's year runs out.

The gloomy perspective caused Sam's pounding to gain in violence. He threw Dean's legs over his shoulders and started to take him even faster, punching wild groans from his already sore throat. His body accepted him earnestly, answering the brutality by leaving an angry, red trail of fingernails across his back and ass. As much as Sam wanted to treat his brother with all the proper care and affection he deserved, roughness seemed to be working better for the both of them. The pace was hard and relentless, yet Dean still craved more of the sweet numbness that spread through his entire body, a divine insensibility to all the concerns in the world. He threw his arm around Sam's neck and pressed his lips against the junction in attempt to stifle his cries. He stayed like that, taking it, until he was hit by an orgasm so strong that his entire vision turned black. He rode his high for a longer while - spasms wrecking his body, uncontrolled tears falling down his face. Sam followed his steps not soon after, pulling back to watch the obscene sight of his hardness spearing Dean's abused hole. He shot, hard, shouting his brother's name as he pumped him full of his seed.

Reluctant to pull away just yet, Sam continued to push lightly until his dick went completely soft, breathing harshly from exhaustion. Beneath him, Dean lay limply on the bed, groaning tiredly, fucked out and pliant. Without the blissful sensation of being filled with Sam's cock, he started to suffer the consequences of being taken practically raw. His cheeks were pink and wet from the intensity of their intercourse, and Sam couldn't resist planting a sloppy kiss on his face before rolling off and out of his body.

***

He didn't remember fainting or falling asleep, but when he regained consciousness, he wasn't where he last remembered being.

_In the motel room, with Dean in his arms._

"Fancy meeting you here, Sammyboy," he heard a mocking voice behind his back and spun around only to face the last person he expected and wanted to see.

"Y-you!... We _killed_ you!"

"Well, surprise, bucko! Do I look dead?"

Sam's gaze hardened as everything clicked together. The other man smirked and rolled his eyes sassily.

"Yes, yes, that was all me. But I'm not here to take credit for shitting on your parade, glorious as it might have been. Let's forget all that. I'm here to congratulate you!"

Sam raised his eyebrows, already fed up with the trickster's bullshit.

"Because, I gotta hand it to ya - there ain't a whole lot of things that can surprise me, but you - you take the cup, son."

"Get to the motherfucking point. I'm not in the mood for your games. Either stop what you're doing, or get the fuck out of here."

"Oh, I'll stop! Cause it's going to be _sooo_ much more fun to watch you deal with what you've done."

Sam felt droplets of cold sweat run down his spine. He swallowed audibly, glaring at the trickster's goofy face with murderous intent.

"This was supposed to be a lesson for you, Sam! There was a moral behind it and all! I was even going to give you a hint tomorrow, for the 100th anniversary! But this is what you decided to do with it," he clicked his tongue, wiggling his finger like a parent lecturing a child. "Naughty, naughty. You decided to jump off the train to paradise. Forbidden fruit, Adam and Eve style. _Not_ cool."

Sam dropped his gaze to the floor, ashamed.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm all free love and shit. But now, you're on the highway to hell," he ended, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why do you even care?" Sam growled defensively.

"I don't... care. I'm just disappointed at how short-sighted you are. You honestly thought that everything would conveniently go _poof_ the next Tuesday? Come on!"

"But-!"

"No buts! Them's the rules, Sasquatch! What's done - is done. You don't... un-bake a cake, you don't un-fuck your brother. Simple as that."

"That's crap. What about the last... 98 days or so, huh?" The hunter clenched his teeth and fists.

The trickster was silent for a while, seemingly making up some petty comeback.

"Details," he snorted negligently.

"So... you plan to..."

"Mmhm."

"No. Please don't." Discovering that glaring didn't help, Sam put on his best puppy eyes. The other man sighed in resignation, like he couldn't hammer any sense into the hunter's thick skull and said:

"Uh-huh. Nope, not working. Save that for your brother. Speaking of which... go get him, tiger," he gave Sam one last wink and snapped his fingers, making everything go black.

When Sam came to his senses, he knew it was Wednesday, because the motel radio was lying smashed under the wall, and Dean couldn't look him in the eye.


End file.
